


My Pet

by veiledndarkness



Series: Submission [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veiledndarkness/pseuds/veiledndarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know anything but this. Written for the twd_kinkmeme on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’s got him well trained.

During the day, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t. It’s subtle but it’s there an’ most people don’t bother to look close enough, which is fine with Merle. He doesn’t need or want any busybody questions from city people, let alone from these uppity fuckers that they’ve shacked up with outside of Atlanta. His boy is _his_ business, no one else’s.

Necessity aside, they wouldn’t normally be around all these weak suburb dwellers, but even Merle knows, there’s safety in numbers when the odds are stacked against you. He smirks when he sees them trying not to ask questions about why his little brother acts as he does. They don’t get it. They won’t get it.

He keeps him at his side during the day as they go through their motions. There’s plenty of work to go ‘round and he knows that if it weren’t for the Dixon brothers, they all woulda starved a long time ago. He figures that’s what’s keepin’ _them_ from asking too many questions, maybe that’s why they don’t stray too close to their campsite.

But at night…when the work’s done, ‘cept for the night watch…that’s when he sees them tryin’ to keep from watching as Daryl sits at his feet, well trained and fucking obedient to the end. He rests there, as comfortable as can be, his legs tucked under him, kneeling at his side, his head resting to Merle’s knee, eyes raised no higher than the fire pit in front of them.

He makes few concessions, despite the attention his boy’s behaviours attract. Daryl still wears his collar, a pretty strap of leather that Merle picked up forever ago, a dog collar in fact. It stands out against his skin and he can hear the city women whisperin’ about that when they think Merle isn’t listening. He stills eats from Merle’s hand, still follows him about from task to task, still doesn’t talk without glancin’ at Merle, checking to see if it’s ok for him to speak.

Merle treats him well despite the looks they get. Daryl’s a good boy, a good pup an’ he’s damn proud of how he’s turned out. Takes years of trainin’ to get a boy to this level and his marks on Daryl’s skin are proof that even the most stubborn can be trained over time.

He pets the boy’s hair absently and he smirks at the tall, skinny broad that scowls at him from across the way when he hears the contented murmurs from his boy. He offers him a chunk of canned peach and his smirk widens at the look of discomfort on her face when his boy accepts the food and then _licks_ his fingers clean, a small smile on his lips as he does so.

It must drive them all nuts, he decides, letting Daryl’s head rest on his thigh. 

They just don’t get it but Hell, it’s not like he thought they would.


	2. Chapter 2

In their tent, late at night, he listens to his boy breathe, watches the way his body jerks in his sleep. He usually sleeps at the edge of Merle’s sleeping bag, curled up in a ball. On cold nights, Merle drapes a worn blanket over him and pretends he can’t hear the whispered words of thanks.

Some nights he’ll allow the boy into his sleeping bag, plastered against his side, his head tucked Merle’s chin and in the morning, he shows his gratitude by rousing Merle with his mouth, slow and steady.

Truth be told, Merle likes those mornings best.

He thinks at times that he can see a hint of uneasiness in Daryl’s eyes, when the other group of survivors gather at night and trade stories. Laughter trickles over to them and he can feel Daryl tense against his leg. He reassures his boy with pats to the head and tells him not to worry; they ain’t gonna come too close. His boy hasn’t left his side, not really, not in years.

Merle saw what had happened when he was away and he didn’t care much for that. Their bitch of a mother (and she better pray, fucking _pray_ , that Merle never comes across her worthless hide) up an’ left one day, leavin’ the boy with that piece of shit father of theirs. He growls under his breath, remembering those days, of finding Daryl half starved and damned near feral in the woods when he’d gotten back from a stint in jail.

He’d never wanted to snap his father’s neck as badly as he did in that moment. The man was useless, worse than useless, and Daryl was nothin’ but skin an’ bones and desperate, wild fear. He’d started the boy’s training that very moment, swoopin’ in and saving the day, rescuing the boy from certain death.

Daryl still doesn’t care much for people. He still shies away from bein’ touched if it ain’t Merle doin’ the touching, still ducks his head and avoids eye contact. He’s more n’ a little skittish an’ that suits Merle fine. If it helps to keep his boy in line, so be it then.

He runs his hand down Daryl’s neck, his thumb pushing on the collar slightly. Daryl stirs beside him and moves into the touch, a throaty sound emerging. His eyes drift shut and he makes a few soft sounds, nuzzling Merle’s hand when it drifts up to his cheek. Merle hears the footsteps and curses whoever’s fool enough to wander by their camp an’ disturb his evening.

It’s the blonde bitch, the uptight lawyer one, and Christ, he can smell the disapproval on her a mile away. She glares at him, arms crossed over her chest. She’s got a decent rack, Merle’ll admit to that much, but that hoity-toity attitude of hers rankles Merle in all the wrong ways. He wants to spank that attitude right outta her.

He listens with half an ear as she rambles on, some boring tale about how this is _wrong_ and Daryl’s not his property, not his slave an’ for God’s sake, why is he wearin’ a dog collar?

Merle settles his hand around Daryl’s neck, gripping him. His boy leans against him, tense and still as though he isn’t breathin’. His gaze stays on the ground but Merle can feel the slight tremors runnin’ through him. His smirk seems to infuriate her all the more.

In lieu of explaining, he lets his thumb brush over Daryl’s collar and the reaction is instantaneous. Daryl presses closer to him, an unhappy noise slipping past his lips. He thinks of what he might say to get her to fuck off until he hears the words form and leave Daryl and he’s more than a little surprised to hear him speak.

His voice is strained, as if he doesn’t speak much (in truth, he really doesn’t) and he tells that broad to back off.

She stares down at them, her mouth a circle of surprise.

Daryl says nothing else and he clamps his mouth shut, his head resting on Merle’s thigh and really, what more is there to say?

Boy doesn’t know anythin’ different an’ Merle likes to think that even if he did, he wouldn’t want anythin’ but this.


	3. Chapter 3

He’s almost expectin’ it the next morning when that cop starts eyeing their site and he can see the bigger cop behind him giving them all kinds of dirty looks. He thinks he ought to get his boy on display the way he used to ‘fore the whole world went to shit. 

He snorts and laughs, thinkin’ how that would look, his pet boy followin’ him on all fours, naked as the day he was born, a leash attached to his collar no less. That would teach ‘em to keep their noses far fuckin’ away from his business. 

It’s only ‘cause Merle doesn’t trust the woods t’ be completely clear of those damned Walkers that he doesn’t let Daryl amble about jaybird naked just for the Hell of it. Why make it easier for them t’ try and take a bite?

He hears a slight scuffle to his left and he knows it’s him, emerging from the tent and waitin’, silent and ready for another day. He looks over his shoulder to be sure an’ yep, there he is, eyes on the dirt, his hands fidgetin’ about. 

Merle frowns and cocks his head before making a quick sound, almost a low whistle through his teeth. Daryl drags his gaze up an’ it’s still there, damn it. That goddamned look on his face, that look that says he ain’t happy with all this, bein’ around so many people, it’s wearin’ him down. Merle grunts and shakes his head and it’s right then that he hears that fuckin’ cop an’ his tag-a-long pal walkin’ on over. 

He hears the man clear his throat an’ ignores him as he slides his buck knife into its sheath, freshly sharpened an’ he kind of wants to stab it in the throat of the tall fucker loomin’ behind the cop. Christ, how he hates cops.

Daryl fidgets again ‘fore takin’ a step back, almost behind Merle, instinctively and that just pisses him right the fuck off. He spent way too damned long the night before calmin’ the boy down an’ getting’ him back into the right headspace. He glares at the men, baring his teeth in an unfriendly smile. 

He can see the annoyance, the irritation clear in the man’s eyes and he wants to laugh at him for clingin’ to that uniform. As if wearin’ it during the Apocalypse still makes him the one in charge. 

“Somethin’ y’all need?” he asks with mock cheerfulness, his hand restin’ on his the handle of his knife. 

The cop nods once, jaw all firmed and this posturin’ shit is borin’ him right to tears. 

“I wanted to talk to you both about…well about a few things.”

Merle straightens his back, more annoyed than before. “Ain’t nothin’ you need to say that matters much to me, _Officer._ ”

The cop looks past him, beyond him to where Daryl is doin’ his damnedest to hide behind Merle. “See that’s where we disagree, Merle,” he says, undeterred. “We need to talk about this…thing you have goin’ on here. Some of the others, they’re a bit uncomfortable with-…”

“Hold on there now,” Merle snaps at him. “You think for even one second that I give a shit what any of y’all city pussies worry ‘bout? Don’t like it, then fuckin’ look away or find someone else t’ do yer huntin’.”

The cop shakes his head, that stubborn look on his face and oh, sometimes Merle’s real glad that the old rules don’t apply no more. He could kill this fucker, yes he could, and he’d never see the inside of no prison afterwards.

“Daryl,” he says, like Merle ain’t already told him what’s what. “I know you’re listenin’ and I just want to talk to you, alright?”

“You ain’t doing shit, Grimes. That boy is mine, you hear me? Mine as in my property, my brother, my blood.”

The cop takes a step to the side, his voice this side of placating a nervous wild animal, hands empty of weapons and hangin’ by his sides. He tries to make eye contact with Daryl, but it ain’t working. Merle’s never been more proud of his boy. 

Daryl, he keeps his gaze down like he’s s’posed to, but Merle can sees he’s chewin’ his lower lip somethin’ fierce and Jesus, that’s the fucking capper on all this. He reaches back, lightnin’ fast and grabs hold of Daryl with one big hand wrapped right ‘round his neck, his thumb above the collar. 

“Easy now, Merle,” Grimes says, eyes wide an’ alarmed and Merle can see him restrainin’ his personal bodyguard with one hand and a side nod. “You don’t need to get rough now.”

Daryl rests against Merle, his body coiled tight and Merle can feel his pulse, feel his rapid heartbeat pushin’ against his collar. The boy makes an unhappy noise an’ Merle glares at the stupid cops, all the more annoyed. He can feel him twitchin’, feel the urge to bolt runnin’ through the boy and he knows Daryl’s gonna need a firm hand to calm down after all this.

“Yer makin’ him uncomfortable with this bullshit!” he snaps. “Whatever you think you know ‘bout all this, you don’t. I can do what I want wit’ this boy, and there isn’t anythin’ y’all can say to me or him that’s gonna change all this, we clear?!”

“Did you even give him a choice?”

Daryl starts against Merle, a hiss of anger through his lips and he’s sneering at the cops. He’s tremblin’ but Merle knows better. He tilts his head to the side, showin’ off his collar, he’s fuckin’ proud of it. 

“Y’see?” Merle croons, rubbing his thumb back and forth along Daryl’s collar and he can see the twin looks of disgusts on their faces when Daryl’s eyes drift halfway shut as always, calmed by nothin’ more than Merle asserting his goddamned ownership. 

“Y’all seein’ this? If he didn’t want it, the boy wouldn’t be here. Maybe that’s why yer panties are all twisted up in bunches, huh? Cause you know the truth. He wants this, Grimes. You hearin’ me?”

Ahh and there’s the look of defeat beginnin’ to show in their eyes. Daryl shifts, just enough to look away from them and he turns, resting his head to Merle’s chest. He whispers Merle’s name and gestures towards the woods with one hand. 

“Any other questions, _Officers_?”

He can see that Grimes wants to continue this, but no way is he gonna push it right now, not with Daryl restin’ on Merle, not with the way his boy is clearly retreatin’ from all this by actin’ like he can’t hear nothing. 

He waits till they start walking back to where they belong, on their side before he tilts Daryl’s chin up to meet his eyes and gives him a quick nod. He ain’t mad at the boy, ain’t his fault and he needs to know that. 

Daryl exhales and some of the tension melts away from his body but he’s still itchin’ to run into the forest an’ fuck it, maybe he’ll let the boy run around starkers for the Hell of it. Let him have some fun with the hunt.


	4. Chapter 4

Merle figures that by now, surely those dumb fucks will have gotten the point. 

He knows that Grimes ain’t stupid like his sidekick, he ain’t stupid in the traditional sense, and he can tell that Grimes knows when to leave well enough alone. And this whole ‘let’s try an’ talk some sense into those crazy Dixons’ shit is pissin’ him off somethin’ fierce, despite all that.

And just look what all their fussing has accomplished. A whole fuckin’ lot of nothing.

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, watchin’ Daryl stand perfectly still, crossbow in place, eyes focused on the prize. There’s a deer not far off an’ the thought of venison is a tasty one. 

Daryl’s completely in his element out here, eyes narrowed on the buck that’s wandered a little too close to their neck of the woods. He knows what he’s doin’ and Merle sits back on a tree stump, silent as well. No sense scarin’ off a Hell of a meal. They bag this one an’ all of the camp’ll be eatin’ well for awhile. 

Merle watches as the arrow lands, as if it was pulled right to the neck of the deer. The smirk that appears on Daryl’s lips is there for only a moment and he lowers his crossbow before lookin’ back behind him at Merle. 

He needs approval for most everythin’, but Merle knows how to treat a boy right. 

He claps him on the back roughly, his hand sliding up into Daryl’s hair, tugging his head to the side. He tells him he did good an’ he can see the gleam of happiness in the boy’s eyes. He pets his hair once, tellin’ him to get that buck ‘fore some Walker fuck gets to it first. 

And as Daryl hurries to do so, Merle can feel a set of eyes on him, off in the distance. He turns casually an’…sonofabitch! He can barely see ‘im, but that sneaky little fuck followed them out here. He could ring that bastard’s neck so easily, he muses even as he makes a split decision. 

He waits till Daryl’s got the deer cornered protectively before he ambles over and together they lift up the buck an’ start bringin’ it back to the camp. He leaves Daryl in charge of skinnin’ and preparing the deer by their site and makes a point of mentionin’ to Grimes that they bagged one big fucking deer. He can see that sneaky fuck slinkin’ back towards the camp behind them. 

For a long moment, he almost goes back on his instinct to keep the kid away from Daryl, but what harm could some little Asian do, that the women or Grimes already failed in doin’?

He stops by Daryl an’ his boy is already skinnin’ the deer, focused on the task at hand. Merle cups his chin, bit more roughly than necessary an’ tells him to behave while he goes an’ checks on the snares. Daryl darts a glance up at him, clearly confused an’ the look of it on his face makes Merle wanna laugh somethin’ fierce. Like Daryl needs to be told to behave, like he’d dare to misbehave…

He finds a spot to wait an’ sure enough, the little shit comes wandering over, hands in his pockets, shufflin’ closer an’ closer to his boy. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so obvious, he thinks and watches in annoyance as the kid sits down across from Daryl on one of the logs of wood they’d arranged around their fire pit. 

Daryl does exactly like he’s been trained. He keeps his head down, hands working skilfully over the deer hide, removin’ it. There’s no eye contact, no acknowledging the fucker that ambled on over. 

He wonders briefly if them city folk took a vote an’ this one lost. 

He’s close enough to hear them and it’s no shocker when he hears the kid start to stutter out some bullshit excuse as to why he’s there. Daryl shakes his head when the kid offers to help him and Merle has to clench his fingers to keep calm. 

It’s with some control that he’s able to keep from losin’ his shit. He’s been sittin’ on the fence about stayin’ with this sorry ass group for the last week or so, and this…this is too much t’ handle lately. They just ain’t getting it and he’s sick of them pushin’ like this.

He cocks his ear and clenches his teeth when he hears the kid start askin’ questions.

“…I was wondering…you don’t have to explain, and I, well I know this is kind of a private thing…”

Daryl’s knife stills and Merle knows he’s listenin’, even if he isn’t looking up. He runs his tongue over his teeth and it’s irritatin’ as all out to see Daryl even doin’ that much. 

“It’s just…You wear that, um, collar,” the kid says, flashing an uneasy grin at his boy. “I uh, I guess we’re kind of worried that he’s making you wear it. Forcing you, is…is what I mean.”

Daryl shifts his head an inch or so and Merle is floored to see him looking at the kid. He grits his teeth, thinking longingly of how he could kill this kid ‘fore anyone would know he was missin’.

He watches as Daryl darts a look, a look of confusion, of mild irritation and of surprise at the kid and then he drops his head back down, lowers his gaze to the deer and he slowly shakes his head an’ Merle can just barely hear him mumble that he likes his collar.

The kid blinks and blinks some more. That ain’t the answer he was expectin’ by the looks of it. 

“But, it’s um…Daryl, that’s a _dog_ collar. Why? He’s, well he’s your brother.”

It’s sheer willpower keepin’ Merle in his spot. He wants to rip that kid apart with his bare hands. He can see Daryl doing that silent shrug of his and he wants to rant to everyone in the quarry that he’s done with their questions, done with their judgments. 

He’s up an’ moving when he sees the gleam of distress in Daryl’s face, moving silent and fast. 

“I jus’,” Daryl mutters, grippin’ the knife with white-knuckled fingers. “He’s all I got.”

And with that, Merle stomps the last few feet over to them and he knows when the kid realizes it from the look of banked fear in his face. He reaches down and yanks the kid up by his shirt. 

“I find ya out here, botherin’ my boy again an’ I’ll skin ya alive,” he growls, givin’ the kid a shake for good measure.

“Merle…” comes from his brother at his side an’ he looks down to see Daryl lookin’ _concerned_ for fuck’s sake. “He don’t mean no harm,” Daryl adds before lookin’ down at the ground, his head to the side, his neck a bit exposed and his collar gleams darkly against his skin.

The kid scrambles to get his footing when Merle sneers at him and gives him one more quick shake. He drops the kid to the ground and glares at him, watchin’ with pleasure as he sputters and coughs from the force of hitting the ground, his eyes wide with fear.

“What is it gonna take for y’all to listen ta what I hafta say?!” he shouts at him and with that, he grabs Daryl by the neck, manhandlin’ him back into the tent, ignoring the slight protest from the kid behind him. 

The tent flap slaps against the fabric siding and Daryl is limp in his grip. Merle can’t remember the last time he was this fucking angry and his irritation is somethin’ fierce at his boy and for that, he puts all the blame on the fucking kid for stirrin’ this shit up again an’ now he’ll have to punish Daryl for disobeyin’ him. 

He’s ready to turn his back on this goddamn group, once an’ for all.


	5. Chapter 5

He doesn’t take much pleasure in havin’ to punish his boy like this. It’s necessary, but that don’t mean he’s happy ‘bout it. 

It’s damn frustratin’ to see all his training thrown out the goddamned window in one split second an’ he still wants to choke the little Asian sonofabitch for darin’ to come near _his_ boy an’ stir all this up again. 

Daryl’s down on his knees, arms danglin’ at his sides an’ his head is down, eyes fixed on the floor of the tent. He’s mostly holdin’ still but there’s a tremor runnin’ down his back an’ a few beads of sweat are slipping down his temples. He’s nervous, Merle knows that for sure.

He’s been workin’ hard to get his anger back under control. Nothin’ good comes from strikin’ while he’s still too pissed to aim straight. He doesn’t wanna hurt his boy permanently, jus’ remind him who the fuck is boss an’ who’s the goddamn pet.

He can feel the tension risin’ in the boy, feel his uneasiness, feel his _fear_. 

“Gotta say, I didn’t think I’d hafta do this so soon,” he says finally an’ Daryl flinches a little, his shoulders jerking. 

“Thought I taught ya better than this,” he adds, standing in front of him, his mouth turned down with disappointment. “Spent all that time trainin’ ya, an’ for what? You go an’ _disobey_ me soon as I turn my back? Defendin’ that little piece of shit to me?!”

Daryl’s throat bobs an’ Merle can see his distress. 

Good.

“What the fuck am I s’posed to think, huh? All that time, boy! An’ this is the thanks I get.” Merle grabs a fistful of Daryl’s hair an’ yanks his head up to face him. “I expected better from ya. Tell ya the truth; I ain’t all that sure I wanna keep you ‘round if you can’t behave.”

Ahh, there’s that look of fear he’s been searchin’ for. Nothin’ scares his pet more than the idea of bein’ turned away an’ Daryl looks more than a little scared. His eyes are wet, wide an’ blue, an’ his chest is hitchin’ up and down real quick. 

“You’re damn lucky I bothered wit’ your ass all them years ago. I coulda left ya to Pa. You hearin’ me, boy? He didn’t give a shit ‘bout you! I did, Daryl. I did, but if ya can’t behave, then I got no use for ya.”

He can see Daryl tremblin’ harder, bitin’ at his lips to keep his words from tumblin’ over them. He releases his grip on the boy’s hair a bit an’ stands back, meeting his stare. “You go on over to the side,” he nods his head to the far end of the tent, the space away from the sleeping bags. “Don’tcha fuckin’ move till I say, either,” he adds. “Yer damn lucky I don’t skin ya for misbehavin’.”

Daryl hesitates an’ a kinda mournful sound catches in his throat, like he wants to protest. 

“I said git on over there!” he barks, shovin’ him back a bit. 

The boy slinks over to the far side, his shoulders slumped way down. He knows that the boy would gladly take a beatin’ or a spankin’ over this. Bein’ rejected cuts him deep. Daryl kneels in the corner of the tent, his head hangin’ low. He breathes shallowly an’ Merle knows from experience that he’s tryin’ not to cry. 

He keeps him over there for some time, he’s not sure how long exactly. He wasn’t one for wearin’ a watch even before the Walkers showed up. The sun slides along the sky and sets ‘fore he decides he’s got his point across. 

He whistles low, almost under his breath an’ he sees the boy’s ears twitch to the sound. Daryl turns slightly, one wary eye lookin’ to be sure he heard right. At Merle’s nod, he’s movin’, surprisingly fast for someone who’s been sittin’ still for half a day.

The boy all but scampers over to him, a hopeful look about his face. He’s grateful, so grateful, an’ he knows what to do and he’s scrabblin’ for Merle’s belt eagerly, all but yankin’ the faded jeans down to please him an’ pleasin’ him is what Daryl does best.

“You best ‘member what I tol’ you,” he tells him, rufflin’ Daryl’s hair this side of gentle. “I’m gonna let this go for now, but don’t ya dare push me again. You mind me, boy.”

Daryl makes a muffled sound of agreement, his lips moving smoothly, willing to agree to almost anythin’ if it means he’s not been cast aside. He’s desperate to win Merle’s favour back an’ that’s enough to make the last of his anger flit away. 

Later, once the boy’s calmed down an’ curled up by his feet, his head on Merle’s thigh at the fire pit, he runs his hand over Daryl’s hair, pettin’ him lightly as he thinks about leavin’. This bullshit with the others is far more annoyin’ than he’d thought it was gonna be.

It’s more that they need him, an’ by some extent, Daryl. None of them know how to hunt properly. It makes him smirk in the best way to imagine them tryin’ to fend for themselves an’ he knows that they won’t last long without the Dixons.

But this interferrin’, this nosing about, this not so subtle shit about tryin’ to get Daryl to say he don’t want this. He knows damn well Daryl does. He never forced this on him. The boy needs someone in charge of him an’ there’s no chance that Merle’ll let someone else take that away from either of them. 

The small fire spits an’ crackles at his feet. He smiles as he watches the flames and thinks it’s time they moved on from this camp.


End file.
